


Never Break the Chain

by Hayleythewriter



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hayleythewriter/pseuds/Hayleythewriter
Summary: Cordelia Carstairs is married to a man who doesn't love her back. At least things couldn't get any worse. Until awkward dinner parties, love spells, and ghosts from the past get involved.Takes place after Chain of Gold.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Ariadne Bridgestock/Anna Lightwood, Cordelia Carstairs/Matthew Fairchild, James Herondale/Original Female Character(s), Jesse Blackthorn/Lucie Herondale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Never Break the Chain

Cordelia was in a golden gown, with champagne tulle layered over the skirt. Her corset was hand embroidered with a beaded, floral design. Her hair was piled on top of her head with curls perfectly pinned in place. A tendril had escaped, but it framed her face nicely. She studied herself in the mirror in Lucie’s bedroom. Today was the day of her wedding. Tomorrow, she’d wake up as Mrs. James Herondale.

“Daisy.” 

James was standing in the doorway, studying her reflection. Cordelia met his eyes in the mirror. 

“You look beautiful.” 

She grabbed her skirts and turned toward him. 

“Thank you. You make a dashing groom.” 

James smiled and Cordelia wished she could say more. He looked better than dashing, in a black jacket and tails embellished with intricate gold stitching. Matthew must have had a hand in picking the design. It was a perfect fit, but then again, James would look dashing in a paper bag tied up with string. His hair had been brushed back at some point, but several curls had fallen loose. He smiled so brightly at Cordelia, she could see his dimples. Her heart was racing. 

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Matthew appeared in the doorway, looking handsome as ever in a new suit. 

James grinned at his parabatai, “Here’s hoping Daisy’s next husband will be more cautious.” 

Cordelia felt her stomach twist. Next husband. It was a painful, but necessary, reminder that this entire wedding was completely staged. There was no love, no passion. This whole thing was nothing more than a desperate hail mary to save what was left of Cordelia’s reputation. 

“Did they send you to find us? Are we starting?” Cordelia asked, turning her focus to Matthew. She needed a topic change. 

“I’m afraid I’ve been sent to stall,” Matthew said strolling into the room. 

“Is something wrong?” she asked. 

“Yes. There’s been an accident involving our dear absent-minded Christopher and an unfortunately placed candle. But I can assure you, the scorch marks are barely noticeable.” 

James laughed and wrapped an arm around Matthew’s shoulders, “I’m sure you smothered the flames quickly.” 

“Yes, luckily, my father has provided years of practice with singed sleeves,” Matthew said. 

“I’m glad your sleeves were safe,” Cordelia said. “I should go. I need to find my father.” 

“Yes. Math, have you seen mine?” James asked. Both were having their fathers walk them down the aisle to give them away, as was tradition. 

“I heard him reminiscing on his own wedding by the refreshments,” Matthew said, “I was a safe distance away, but tears were definitely being shed.” 

Cordelia felt another twist of anxiety. She hated that James had to lie to his parents. Will and Tessa had already gone above and beyond to welcome her. She knew the divorce would hurt them. But she was also anxious for selfish reasons. They were the parents of her parabatai, they already felt like family, and in a year they would probably refer to her as the girl who broke their son’s heart. 

“I don’t expect a dry eye in the house during my vows,” James said, shooting Cordelia a playful smile, “I made sure to make them extra romantic.” 

“I didn’t know you were a writer,” she said, only slightly teasing. 

“He’s not,” Matthew said with certainty, “He once wrote me a poem for Christmas. He rhymed ‘blond hair’ with ‘Shadowhunter gear’.” 

“Well. Now you’ll never get a sequel to Magnificent Matthew, Slayer of Ducks.” 

“The literary world weeps. Now we’ve got a wedding to attend.” Matthew said herding him toward the door and sending him on his way. He turned back to Cordelia, “Do you need help finding your father?” 

Cordelia took a breath as deep as her corset would allow. “If you’d be so kind.” 

Cordelia and Matthew headed into the hallway, and he suggested they check the kitchens since Matthew had just left the ballroom where a majority of guests were gathered in wooden chairs. The kitchen was buzzing with a cooking staff, preparing for the reception, and they ran into Charlotte who was there to taste test and avoid the never-ending stream of questions she got as Consul. Demon activity was now almost nonexistent in London, which was worrying. It had been equally quiet before the recent attacks. 

“You look stunning, Cordelia,” Charlotte said. “Absolutely stunning. I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on your engagement. I must apologize.” 

“There’s no need,” Cordelia said warmly, “Our engagement was rather quick. I’ve haven’t had time to do anything outside of sending invites and tasting cake for weeks.” 

“I can’t wait to get married,” Matthew said, side eyeing the three layered cake a chef was in the middle of decorating with pink frosted roses. 

“You can wait until after Charles,” Charlotte warned. “One engagement at a time.” 

“Have you seen my father?” Cordelia asked, before Matthew could make a snide comment at his brother’s expense. 

“Hmm. I believe I saw your mother run into the library earlier.” Charlotte said. 

Cordelia and Matthew shared a look, then bid Charlotte goodbye. Matthew snuck one last longing glance at the cake, and then the two made their way to the library. 

Inside was rows of bookshelves, which seemed to be twice as stuffed every time Matthew visited. The room appeared to be empty, until Alastair appeared from behind a shelf. 

“Cordelia,” he said, looking between her and Matthew. 

“Perhaps I should leave,” Matthew said. He didn’t want to upset Cordelia, especially moments before her wedding. But he couldn’t imagine a conversation between him and Alastair that wouldn’t upset her in some way. Perhaps if Alastair had tape on his mouth and Matthew was heavily drugged. 

“Perhaps you should,” Alastair snapped. 

“Alastair,” she said sharply, but Matthew was already out the door. She turned on her brother, “Why must you—” 

“Oh, Layla,” Sona walked out from behind the same bookshelf. A smile overtook her face, “you look radiant.” 

She pulled her mother into a warm hug, “Thank you for the dress. I think we’re starting soon. Have you seen—” 

Her mother hugged her tighter, “I’m sorry. Elias can’t give you away.” 

“What?” She pulled back, and studied her mother’s face, “Why?” 

“He’s not well,” Sona said, tearing up. She took a shaky breath and repeated, “He’s not well.” 

Cordelia didn’t need a further explanation. She heard a clink from behind the bookshelf and could imagine her father slumped over, bottle in his hand. She felt angry, mostly at herself, for being naïve for so long. Maybe if she’d known about his struggle with addiction earlier, she could have gotten him help. Her cheeks heated with shame. Maybe she could ask her mother to give her away, but she didn’t want to make it obvious that she had no parents in the audience. And her mother didn’t look in any shape to be walking down an aisle surrounded by the best of shadowhunter society. Maybe she could ask Lucie— 

Alastair cleared his throat, and Cordelia nearly jumped. She’d forgotten he was there. 

“Perhaps. . . if you wanted— or, needed. . .” he said. 

She smiled at her brother, and nodded. She knew what he was offering. Sona reached for both her children, and pulled them into a group hug. Alastair protested and Cordelia tried to protect her hair and makeup, but Sona knew they secretly loved it. 

The wedding ceremony went perfectly. Neither James or Matthew gave any hint of surprised to see Alastair walking her down the aisle instead of her father, for which she was grateful. Jem married them, in a touching, telepathic ceremony. It was nothing like Cordelia imagined as a child, and it was absolutely perfect. 

The reception was held in the same room, which everyone pitching it to put aside their chairs. After a few moments the ballroom was alive with swishing skirts and a live band. Refreshments were served, including an open bar. 

Cordelia was floating around the room on James’s arm, making sure she thanked everyone he led her to. James knew so many people. Normally it would have exhausted her, but Cordelia was buzzing. Did getting married give you adrenaline? She couldn’t stop smiling if she tried. 

“Do you see Matthew?” James said in her ear. 

She glanced around the room, but couldn’t spot his blond curls anywhere. She shook her head and James seemed to deflate. Just as suddenly he straightened up like he’d been shocked. She followed his gaze, but had a feeling she knew what she’d see. 

Grace and Charles, walking arm in arm. Grace looked lovely, dressed in a silver gown that shimmered with each swish of fabric. Cordelia felt upstaged. 

“Go thank our guests,” Cordelia said, “I’ll try to find Matthew.” 

James mumbled an agreement and made his way toward Grace and Charles. Cordelia had a moment of déjà vu. Things were so different from that first time she and James had danced together in the ballroom. In the eyes of the law, they were married. But some things, she thought as she walked off the dance floor alone, were exactly the same. 

She found Matthew sitting alone in a windowsill. She could still hear the lively music from the reception, but it was muffled. Matthew was staring out the window, past his reflection, into the night sky. There was a full moon tonight. 

“Did you get lost on your way back?” 

He jumped and turned his head toward her. “Cordelia,” he said, and something in his left hand glistened in the moonlight. His flask. 

Cordelia felt a surge of annoyance. “Do you prefer to drink alone?” 

She regretted it as soon as she’d said it. It was like she’d slapped him. 

“No. I. I wanted a moment to myself. Did I miss the speeches?” 

They’d asked Matthew, Lucie, Christopher, Thomas, and Anna to say a few words at the reception. Some had been more excited than others at the idea of public speaking, but all had accepted. 

“No,” Cordelia said, extra nicely. She was upset at her father, not Matthew. Her father missed her wedding. Matthew had done nothing wrong. Though she glanced at the flask. There was an open bar in the ballroom. Were his tastes that discerning? 

“Well, we can’t keep the princess from her ball,” Matthew stood, and pocketed the flask. He offered her an arm, “Shall we?” 

She hesitated. Could she be on someone else’s arm at her own wedding? Of course, she quickly dismissed the worry. Matthew was her friend, and James’s brother. No one outside their friend group knew the wedding was fake, so they would think nothing of it. 

Though she only hesitated for a moment, it was a moment too long. Matthew shoved his hands into his pockets like he’d never offered his arm in the first place. 

“Come along. Now, I don’t mean to tell you how to run your wedding, but don’t you think the cake should be served by now?” 

A while later, once the cake had indeed been served, James and Cordelia were seated at a place of honor near the front of the ballroom. Lucie was standing under the arch where they’d gotten married, with a glass of champagne raised. 

“And that’s why,” she concluded her speech with gusto, “I’m so proud of my brother, and my parabatai. They found their happy ending. And though I’ll only admit this once, it’s happier, brighter, and better than anything I could have written. To James and Cordelia.” 

The crowd cheered and clinked their glasses. James clinked his glass against Cordelia’s, who was crying too hard to concern herself with cheers. Lucie shot her a devious grin when no one else was watching. She’d written a sincere, heartwarming speech on purpose, that sneaky devil. Lucie raised an eyebrow as Matthew stood to take her place. Cordelia wiped her cheeks and laughed. He’d have a hard time beating that. 

Matthew had a glass in his hand, but it was empty. That was the first red flag. 

“Hello. Hello, my fellow esteemed guests,” Matthew said. There were some light chuckles from the crowd. “I think we should all thank Lucie for her speech. It was a wonderful speech. Cheers, Lucie.” Matthew strolled to a nearby table and exchanged his empty glass for somebody’s full one. He raised the glass and downed it. Some of the audience joined him. Cordelia glanced at James, but he was watching Matthew, happily enraptured. 

“We are gathered here today. For cake. No, no. We are gathered here to celebrate James Herondale, my parabatai, and brother I always wanted. No offense Charles.” 

The crowd laughed, which only served to encourage Matthew. He wasn’t slurring his words, he sounded just fine, but he stumbled slightly on perfectly flat ground. Cordelia tried to meet Lucie’s eyes, but Lucie was watching Matthew with a horrified expression. Cordelia glanced at James again, but he wasn’t worried in the slightest. 

“And we’re celebrating Cordelia Carstairs. Can we all give it up for Cordelia? She is, I mean. . . she is beautiful.” He blinked, “A beautiful Shadowhunter. And she’s in love with James. Isn’t that wonderful? And now they’re married. Which is why we’re celebrating. You know, I never thought they’d get married. There’s easier ways to get cake.” 

“And, thank you Matthew,” Lucie spoke up, and Cordelia was grateful. Matthew was drunk. If he slipped up, revealed the real reason for the wedding, everything would be ruined before it began. 

“I’m not finished,” he said, taking another drink, “This is my parabatai’s first wedding. I have to give the best speech ever given.” 

“My first and only, if I can help it,” the audience laughed, and James stood and raised his glass. “Thank you Matthew— and thank you everyone, for making this a night we’ll never forget.” Cordelia stood and slid her arm around his waist. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. It didn’t bother her. Their bodies, pressed together, felt as natural as breathing. 

“To Mr. and Mrs. James Herondale,” Thomas cheered from a nearby table, and the crowd cheered with him. Cordelia watched Lucie pull Matthew into the hallway from the corner of her eye. 

“Matthew, you almost ruined everything,” Lucie said, dragging Matthew outside the institute a safe distance away. Matthew had an arm around her shoulder, and she held onto his wrist to make sure he couldn’t escape. 

Between the blue lanterns and moonlight, the courtyard was well lit. Lucie let go of Matthew who stumbled forward, before catching himself and turning to face her. Lucie stood between two stone fountains, clutching a champagne glass tightly in her hand. If she didn’t have something to hold, she’d surely smack him. 

“Why did you bring me out here?” he asked, incredulous. 

She glared, “Because you were a danger to yourself and others in there. You almost told everyone everything—” 

“Please,” He rolled his eyes, “I was just giving my speech.” Lucie saw red. 

“You don’t know what you were saying. God! Isn’t there a rune James uses to sober you up?” 

Matthew tilted his chin and almost laughed, “I’m not drunk.” 

Lucie dumped her glass, dunked it into the closest fountain, and threw the water in Matthew’s face. He sputtered and wiped his eyes. 

Lucie reached forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact. 

“Matthew Fairchild, you have a problem,” she said. She dropped his shoulders, which sagged down, like they were carrying the weight of the world. Lucie turned away. “I want to help you. But if you make your problem James and Cordelia’s problem. . . I’m going to help them. Don’t talk to anyone until you’ve sobered up.” 

She picked up her skirts and walked back into the Institute. 

Matthew watched her go.


End file.
